The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-04-16

rial-and her eyes shine with health and
happiness. That's philosophy.
"Granting all that, beside"
"Wait, Jack, I'll soon be through
Who asked me to write up our little ro-
mantle s;t ry, and what was the doing so
but an effort at literature? What do you
call the composing of that hymn for Pas
tor Pettigrew's infant class? How should
1 know that Fatima's pale.blue silken
hood looks better than any other color
against the golden CLINT of her curls if /
had no artistic sense? How could have
said. yesterday to the honest old washer
woman, imported from fatherland only
last spring: Frau Mueller, ich habe
dieSen Morgen, meme BrieftdSche GER
Torn; Gas soil geschehen9 and thanked
her when she showed me how she had
found it in my calico dress pocket il I
hadn't dug German roots as we'll as Lat-
in? How could have informed the little
Frenchwopan in your behalf that cette
maison est q uendre az plus df'rdnt ct
dernier encheriseeur,' IL 1 hadn't had a
hundred headaches over all the roots that
grow in France? If l wasn't apt at the
needle, where would those awful rents at
heel and toe land you? IL l knew not the
use OF the sad iron-oh, we'll named tool!
where would be your linen immaculate?
Ii l ignored natural history, shouldn'.
have known where to have looked for the
birds nests have added to your collec-
ton. II l had known nothing Of medicine
should not have known that just SO many
pellets Of aconite-no more, no less
could allay baby's fever. If I wasn't a
bit OF machinist, my sewing machine
would cost US quite little sum with its
frequent getting out OF gear, and as for
cobbling, look at that patch on Fatima'e
shoe. As tiller Of the soil, am the sue
cessful grower of enough tomatoes, at
least, to Can for winter, and as for tin
neT, can solder the cans as well as any
one III the profession. AS hostler, can
harness the pony to the phaeton as well
as you yourself can and give myself and
baby many a pleasant airing. I'm car
peuter enough to plane down that stub.
born door in the woodshed till it shuts
obediently."
"Desdie, forgot
"And painter enough to match the colol
and paint the planed raw edge. was
taxidermist enough 10 save the feathered
hide of that lovely crane you shot; and
smart enough to throw the paper that
held the arsenic into the fire, and and
Desdemopa, my love, forbear! II
am overcome with your requirements. !
am your servile slave. And that's the
way a man gets fooledl [, ignorantly
enough, supposed I was asking in mar
riage small, averaged Drained lassie,
who, like myself, was all alone in the
world, and who would look up to me as
to protector. Look up forsooth
Desdemona"-
"Jack, forgive me. had to show that
] was superior being and could not
be put down in argument. And you had
to learn that woman, instead Of having a
contracted sphere has one wider than
you lords of creation would ever dream
of filling. And, Jack, dear, don't let's
argue any more. I would not give you d
chance to-day. and beg of you never to
try it again. I will live my life, and you
shall live yours, and though, in many
respects, SO unlike, they will be so close
together in sympathy that the boundaries
will not be discernible Take me for
what / am, Jack, busy, we'll meaning
little haas NATTER your wife and your
equal-do you hear, Jack? And I'll call
you the dearest boy in the world, set you
on the altar OF my heart, and be the hap
piest girl that ever made loaf of
bread?"
"Mrs. Rap, I find it difficult to recover
from this complete prostration! I am
overwhelmed May venture, for the
sake OF Argument
"Tabooed, sir; no argument between
us henceforth allowed! l will not bear it.
Your voice was growing harsh to me;
your eyes frowned your convictions into
mine; -FOUR laugh ceased to warm my
heart; and oh, Jackp
ayes, dear?"
"Fatima has fallen asleep with her
head in the butter dishl''
Sand will rest in happy ignorance of
the awful things her little womanship
will be expected to know when come the
glad years Of maturity"
But it worked it's charm. There is no
fierce argument about our pleasant con-
verse now. We talk about everything
like two chatty robins, and no spirit of
discord mars our happy home.-Evd Best
in Detroit Free Press.